Everyone Is A Suspect

"Brooklyn Zoo"

Today is my fourth day of being at school/living here in Brooklyn. In total honesty, I love it here and have not felt a drop of homesickness. Granted, my last experience with my parents before being dropped off was my mom crying and telling me how awful I am, and my dad taking swipes at me in the backseat. To say it perturbs me how they acted on move-in day would be a huge understatement; they felt as if they day was a big event to them (which it was in a sense, I'm leaving the nest etc.) but it should have been a bigger event to me. I'm bummed that my first memory of what I assume will be 4 years of awesome ones is having that awful tiff with my parents. It should've been a positive day for them and me, but it ended up quite the opposite. But, enough emotional griping, this is not a livejournal (it's a much more mature thing...a blog...)

I've made more friends easily here in the past 4 days than all 17 years spent back at home. Everyone here is interesting, everyone is creative, everyone has something to talk about. Everyone knows what they want to do in their field, and could hold a very long conversation telling you about it. Most importantly, everyone listens to good music, or at least is heavily interested in it (there's a few kids who listen to some awful shit.) I hope it won't be long until I can find some other kids to play music with, it's been so god damn long.

The first night here I didn't leave campus until 10, and went with my roommate to Fort Greene park a few blocks down from the school. Second day we went to Williamsburg to try and see Girl Talk and ended up waiting in line for an hour, getting rained on, and eventually leaving. Yesterday I went to Manhattan by myself earlier in the day to check out Generation Records, came back to school only to leave shortly after with a group of kids heading to Williamsburg. We checked out a bunch of thrift stores in the area (way too hip) and got some pizza. At night I went with my roommate and another writing major to this kid's apartment, and I got to hang out on my very first rooftop in the city. We bought some Magic Hats with waaaaaay too much ease at some sketch corner store near the apt., then headed back to Fort Greene to enjoy them and what-have-you.

This all might sound rather lame, boring, and uninteresting to a lot of you. I would rather wander aimlessly around Brooklyn for eternity than spend one more day in the municipal parking lot back in New Milford. Everything is so much more alive and active here, people are so much easier to talk to and socialize with.

I'm not really sure why I wrote this long self-centered post. I just do not miss home one ounce at all, and love it here.

not drowning, but waving

Not drowning, but waving

Hoping anyone might join

for a swim.

The capital building in old

(Not "Old")

San Juan,

how is it you rose with haste?

Yet Georgian marble remains

your truest form,

Emancipation from the I.V.

A divorce from the respiratory machine.

Any poem that's stumbled

from me,

Like a vagrant into such and such city's streets;

Stay only a reaction to his or hers

Most unique, most praised works.

I'd named an entire record's worth

of songs

after bits and fragments Nabokov left.

But,

I scrapped that one.

Who may I leach from next?

Ingesting dramamine as it were ringworm,

my seasick legs can't stand

this pitch. I tried my damnedest

to hear it once, twice;

it simply can't hold my attention.

That old sinking feeling

creeps up on Andy,

The poet cannot be a painter

who cannot be a dancer

who cannot be a musician

who can never be a playwright

who can try (to no avail) being a filmmaker

who can, as hard as he may,

in any and every medium available,

to capture the sudden outpouring of expression

and creation bleeding from his loins, (a bit of motherly intuition)

but suffice to say, (as many cliches as one can fit)

the visual arts do nothing to relieve him,

the prose he painstakingly peruses and prods leaves eyes burning, mind

still blank.

The swift, unspoken movements are found to be quite unmoving

And no odd collection of phrases and tones (regardless how well orchestrated

rehearsed and arranged) speak to him.

Behind the curtains on stage,

there is only stage (eventually make way for the rear

wall of the theatre)

And thin celluloid never insulted me

(did I say me? Him)

so much in my entire life, "Watch these bared men

And women!" As imitation of what

one has never seen or felt or thought

Passes awkwardly through a projector,

proclaims "This was what coursed through

your own veins and synapses in your brain

That mindset not clearly defined yet as your

old parents car swept you from a childhood home

to a metropolis.

Everyone knows just as little about feeling as you."

"Dark star crashes, pouring its light into ashes"

It's safe to say this record changed my life, or at least my views on music. Simply put, if a band can't perform well live, they aren't worth the time. Anyone can perfect music in a studio, but it takes real musical skill to reproduce it successfully in a live setting.

When I first heard this record, I was deep into the hardcore/strange indie rock phase I went through in the middle of high school. Hardcore really seemed to be the only music with a high amount of energy, yet the songs and records were always so simple that I searched for other genres. Most bands falling under the "indie rock" banner today really just play slowed-down, beautified 90's style alternative dubbed as "indie." The songs can be boring, but at least they escaped the 1-minute time limit, 3 chord restrictions of hardcore punk.

Literally, there has never been a band (nor will there ever be one) that played live as well as the Dead. The first time I heard this record was a near religious experience. To add to all the lame nostalgia I associate with this record, that first time listen was on vinyl; my Dad's original copy from 1969. Hearing "Dark Star" form together from a minute and a half of seemingly random and meaningless notes, into that plateau of musical perfection where every member of the band is playing off of each other, was something I'd never heard before. The amount of energy I felt from the ending of the second track, "Saint Stephen," could not match anything I'd felt before. Not nearly as powerful as my first listens to Minor Threat and Black Flag. No amount of speed could match the intensity of the Grateful Dead forming one giant musical wave.

I could go on and on and on about this record, but it'd just be pointless babbling. A lot of people are decidedly for or against the Grateful Dead (usually before even listening to them,) but if you are a fan of live music in any way, shape, or form then I highly recommend this album. Even if you can't get into the music they make, you have to appreciate the skill and chemistry they had while playing live.

R.I.P. Jerry + Pigpen

Grateful Dead - Live/Dead (1969)

"I'm not your reason to crack and divide"

My favorite Fugazi LP. Favorite track is probably "Long Division."

Fugazi - Steady Diet of Nothing (1991)

"To be young is to be sad, is to be high"

Same deal as the American Football LP, but this is singer songwriter stuff instead of twinkly sounding emo. Ryan's amazing first solo record; followed by a few awful records but he picked it up again with the Cardinals albums.

Ryan Adams - Heartbreaker (2000)